


You Look Like a Chrysanthemum

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Age Differences, Bones is a loser but we love him, But Spock is still Vulcan, College AU, Jim helps, M/M, Random - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8136170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: what is the difference between falling in love and having a crush? if they get a haircut and they’re ugly it’s a crush

Spock gets a haircut. It's awful. Bones still likes him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this post on tumblr](http://punk-rock-yuppie.tumblr.com/post/150909929816/what-is-the-difference-between-falling-in-love-and)! had a lot of fun writing this. not beta'd, enjoy!

“Jim, I’ve got a problem.”

The younger man looks up with a crooked, cheeky smile. “Bones, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you have a _lot_ of problems.” He doesn’t push his work aside but he does put all his focus on his friend. Jim holds up one finger. “You’re twenty-six with a divorce under your belt and a kid you never see.” It’s harsh, but the truth. He holds up a second finger. “Your best friend is a devilishly handsome younger man who you refuse to sleep with, which, your loss by the way.”

Bones rolls his eyes but waits out the lecture.

Jim holds up a third finger but takes a moment to contemplate his words. “You’ve got a drinking problem,” a fourth finger is next, “you work crappy hours at the clinic on campus.” Now, his thumb pops up alongside the rest and Jim’s smile only brightens. “And I think you’re about to tell me the most recent issue.” Jim looks at his hands and even shoots a glance to his feet under the table. “I mean, I could go on, but I’d need several more hands and toes to cover all the problems you have.”

Bones groans and collapses into the chair opposite Jim. “He got his hair cut.”

Jim finally closes his book and pushes it away. He picks his pen up and taps the end of it against his bottom lip. “Come again?”

Bones drops his head into his hands, then lays his head against the table and grumbles again. Several minutes pass before he sits up just enough to glare at Jim. “You remember that pointy eared bastard who reminded Professor Pike that we all had homework to turn in?”

Jim chuckles—the incident was a couple months old, but it had a fond spot in his chest. Not only had the look of outrage on his classmates’ faces been hilarious (especially when not directed at Jim himself) but it was also one of the only times Jim had done his homework. “Oh yeah, I remember.” Jim drops his pen back on the counter and sits back in his seat. As he speaks, he steeples his fingers. “I also remember the insane crush you’ve got on the kid.”

He says kid for two reasons: one, the man in question is definitely younger than both of them, or he sure as hell looks it. Bones is twenty-six and acts like he’s sixty. Jim is twenty-two and acts like it every day of his life. This kid, though, Jim would hazard him as being nineteen at best. Maybe. Even if he’s not, though, it’s fun to call him a kid and watch Bones’ eye twitch.

Bones flips him the bird (after his eye twitches, right on time, so Jim considers it a win). “He cut his hair.”

Jim stares back at his friend. He doesn’t get an answer right away. “Okay, I’ll bite, why does this matter?”

Bones scrubs his hands over his face and for a brief moment he looks like he’s going to cry. “He cut his hair and it looks fucking _stupid_ and I still want to, to… ugh.”

“To fuck his brains out on that cute little desk of his in Ethics?” Jim asks, ignoring the dirty look the librarian shoots them both. “It can’t be that bad. I know you’re sort of hopeless, Bones, but you do have decent taste. Even if you won’t give me a chance.” He winks just for show. He’s long since accepted that he and Bones won’t even have a single roll in the hay for good time’s sake. He’s okay with that. Still fun to torment his friend, though.

“It’s _bad_.” Bones scrambles for his phone and yanks it out of his pocket with such a force that it hits the table hard. It earns them another glare and even a _shush_ this time. Jim waves back in apology, throwing in a shrug and an exasperated gesture to Bones for good measure. Bones grabs his phone again, unlocks it, fiddles with it for a few moments longer before passing it to Jim. “Look. Look, and then take me out back and shoot me because I am as good as a dead man.”

Jim scoffs and takes the phone. “It really can’t be _that_ —oh my god.” He drops the phone this time, but hurries to grab it again before Bones can hide it. He stares at the picture on the screen: it’s fuzzy but not so much so that he can’t make out the sharp, insane edges of the kid’s haircut. It’s… It suits him, sure, but it’s definitely not as nice as the slightly shaggy, well-kept curls from before.

“Jim, you gotta put me out of my misery.”

“Bones, first, I have to point out that it’s awfully creepy that you were snapping pictures of him during lunch, without his permission.”

Bones throws his hands up in frustration. “What was I supposed to do?” He asks in an exaggerated whisper. “S’cuse me, fellow classmate, I know I don’t know your name and I know you probably think I’m some moron from down south, but I’d really love to take your picture so I can show my friend your hideous haircut that still makes me want to kiss you senseless?”

Jim can’t help it; he erupts in laughter and tosses the phone back to Bones. Then, he bends at the waist and laughs until tears are in his eyes. When he comes up for air again, the librarian is standing beside him and Bones is already making a beeline for the door. Jim gathers his things with a few stray chuckles still escaping, then nods politely to the librarian before catching up with his friend.

“I’m serious, Jim.”

“Oh, I know you are Bones.”

“He looks like a damn fool.”

“He does indeed.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Bones sounds genuinely upset so Jim slows his own strides until they’re walking a little more leisurely down the hall.

“Tell him how you feel?” Jim suggests with a shrug.

“I thought it was just a crush!” Bones keeps mourning himself (or maybe it’s his love life that he’s mourning) as though he didn’t hear Jim.

“Well, you know what they say. If they get a haircut this bad and you still want to bang ‘em, then it must be love.”

Bones just whimpers.

Jim slaps him on the shoulder. “Cheer up, Bones. We’ll get you laid in no time.”

“I don’t want to _just_ get laid, Jim! I want—!”

“Hey! Hey!” Jim shouts, cutting Bones off. “Kid with the ears!”

“Jim.”

“Hush, Bones, that’s my name. Hey!” Jim doesn’t leave Bones’ side. Instead, he grips Bones by the shoulders and hurries them both down the hall.  Eventually they catch up with his target. “Hey, you’re in our Ethics class, aren’t you?”

The kid’s haircut is even worse in person, but it’s clearly symbolic. Between his pointed ears and the soft green hue to his skin, Jim would hazard a guess that the sharp lines of the haircut are just as important as the stoic expression on the kid’s face.

“I am in that class, yes.” The kid’s arms are crossed over his chest, holding books close. He looks a little skittish up close and Jim finds himself fascinated with the dark green blush blooming in his cheeks.

Jim looks carefully—quickly, subtly—from the kid, to Bones, to the kid, to Bones, then the kid again. The kid’s deep brown eyes are focused on Bones in a way that almost looks predatory. Jim would put money on the kid’s mouth watering, despite the lack of emotions in his expression.

“Right, well.” Jim breaks the silence. “This is Bones,” he says as he slaps his friend on the back to propel him another step or two forward. “I’m Jim, but really you just need to know about Bones. What’s your name?”

For a brief moment those brown eyes flick to him. “I am Spock.”

“Spock, Bones would like to ask you on a date. He thinks you’re incredibly attractive, especially with that new haircut of yours.”

The blush burns brighter on Spock’s cheeks. He turns back to Bones. “You noticed the change in my appearance? I had thought it to be relatively minor.”

“It—well, I mean.” Bones gapes. “It was, but, uh. Yes, I noticed. That’s all that really matters, ain’t it?”

Spock stares at Bones like he’s looking through a microscope. Like Bones is a collection of cells in a petri dish that hold the answer to some fabulous conundrum. Jim doesn’t speak again, but he’s definitely going to stick around to enjoy the show.

“I just. Jesus, Spock, how old are you?” Bones asks and Jim wants to slap him upside the head. He’s got to let his friend make his own mistakes, though.

“I am going to be twenty in approximately two standard weeks.”

Bones goes pale in the face and seems to sway on his feet. Jim kicks him in the shin. “Uh.”

Spock seems to perk up a bit. It’s a small gesture, but Jim is a master of observation. Spock stands a little straighter and his face is a little brighter. Sure, because of the blush, but also because of the slight wash of emotions taking over his face. “Would you like to take me out to dinner for my birthday?”

Bones startles and Jim bites his tongue to keep from laughing. “What?”

Spock isn’t deterred. “Your friend,” Spock nods to Jim, “seems confident that you do wish to pursue a relationship with me. I have discerned that my age may be a problem for you. Assuming that twenty is better than my current nineteen—however arbitrary I find that to be—it would be logical for you to take me out to dinner on my birthday.”

Bones just blinks owlishly.

Spock nods as he’s apparently made up his mind. “Two standard weeks from now.” He plucks Bones’ phone from his hand and unlocks it with ease. Bones just stays stock still. Spock’s fingers move in a blur over the screen before he hands it back. “You now have my number. I have sent myself a message so that I have your number as well. I will text you the time and location for our date.”

Jim is biting his tongue hard enough to bleed and nearly bites damn clear through when Spock leans forward and gives Bones a kiss on the cheek. It’s soft and quick and hardly a brush of skin, but Spock looks delightfully scandalized and Bones looks happily confused. Spock nods again after the kiss, nods politely to Jim—flashes him a quick grin even, something Jim is going to consider a ‘thanks’—then finishes walking down the hall, away from them both.

After Spock is long gone, Jim slaps Bones on the back again. “What did I tell you?”

“I’m in love with an alien that has stupid hair and talks like an android.”

Jim snorts. “I didn’t put it quite like that, but sure.” He starts walking and Bones does too, though he looks like more of a zombie than a person. “Don’t I get a thank you?”

Bones stares at him, blue eyes wide and wet and full of delight. For the first time since Jim has known him, there’s not a trace of bitterness in the worn features of his friend. “Thanks, Jim.”

Jim returns the expression with a grin of his own. “Anytime, Bones, anytime.”


End file.
